


Nineteen of You

by douchelou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Harry's kind of a mess, M/M, Mental Health Issues, OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, X-Factor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:04:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/douchelou/pseuds/douchelou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Louis makes the world seem quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nineteen of You

**Author's Note:**

> inspired (kind of?) by this poem http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5de4294Uebo

The germs are crawling into his skin. Up his arms and beneath his fingernails. And it’s bad today. Like it’s really bad and Harry’s probably rubbing his skin raw because this is the nineteenth time he’s washed his hands in the last hour or so and he’ll probably have to do it again because nineteen is an odd number and Harry _hates_ odd numbers. Really he’s nervous and the pressure of getting in is bearing down on him even though his mother had assured him that they didn’t care if he got a yes or not because it’s okay to make mistakes. Except it’s not. It’s _The X-Factor_. It’s not okay to make a mistake because Harry has to be perfect. You can’t be perfect with germs creeping up and your fingers so now Harry is washing his hands.

The echo of voices reverberates from backstage as the bathroom door is pushed open, swinging once, twice, three times before slowly making its way to its original position. Harry keeps his head down, rinsing the invisible menace that had made its way up his opaque skin.

"Hi!" Someone all but chirps beside him. Harry looks up, startled. He makes eye contact with the boy through the mirror. And _oh_. That’s what silence feels like. And the thing is, Harry can’t remember the last time the world fell silent. The last time he didn’t have that not-so small voice in the back of his head wonder if his socks matched (yes) or his clothes were organized in his closet by color (yes) or if he left his light on in his room before he left the house (no). So maybe this is a big deal.

He quickly turns and holds out a hand, promptly splashing this beautiful boy with eyes like the sky on a day that Harry likes and skin like honey gram crackers which Harry also likes, with disgustingly soapy water. “Oops.” He instantly turns bright red, because what a _stupid_ thing to say and he doesn’t even know this boy who makes the world go quiet’s name and he’s splashed him with dirty water. “Sorry.” Harry blurts. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.” Oh god he probably hates him.

But the boy who makes things quiet is already laughing, shaking his head. “Nah it’s okay, needed a washing anyway.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he wiped himself off with a quick motion, the worst of the droplets flicking to the floor. “I’m Louis.”

"My name is Harry." But it didn’t taste right on his tongue so he said it again, and again. And normally by now people were staring at him like he came out of a scfi movie. (And maybe he did, maybe he was a malfunctioning robot or something because he sure felt like a he had a glitch in his programming sometimes.) But Louis didn’t, laughing pleasantly.

"You know what, Harry? I think you’re gonna be famous one day."

And like, yeah. Maybe he’s a little bit in love. Because Harry only washes his hands nineteen times and can’t bring himself to care.

 

—-

They’re put together as a group with three other boys and it’s kind of huge. Louis jumps into his arms and burrows his head tightly into Harry’s shoulder. “You made it.” He whispers, quietly like maybe he wasn’t even supposed to hear.

Harry bites down his grin, turning his face into the older boy’s neck. “ _We_ made it Lou.” The world kind of goes quiet again and the only thing Harry really focuses on is the boy wrapped in his arms and the smell of his skin pressed against his nose.

 

—-

Everything is different and the same when they make it to live shows. Louis is there and so is Niall and Zayn and Liam. They still mess around mostly and sometimes Harry feels a little sick but then Louis is there and gentle and acts like its fucking _endearing_ that Harry organizes his food by color more than he actually eats it. But it’s different how now there’s other people. Like there’s Cher and she has tattoos and lots of makeup and when Harry admits that he’s always wanted some she smiles really wide and maybe they become pretty good friends, after that. And the practice is so much harder because people around the country will be watching and Harry has to be even better because people don’t take pity on kids with too-curly hair and obsessive compulsive disorder.

So maybe Harry gets a panic attack.

It’s the night before one of the live shows and Harry is curled into a ball in the corner of his bunk and he can’t breathe. His palms are sweaty and he’s choking back sobs and trying to control his breathing because Harry has had a panic attack before and that’s what you’re supposed to do but it’s not working. And he could scream he’s so scared and frustrated but he’s trying to be quiet so he doesn’t wake anyone. It’s hard and he’s hyperventilating in short gasps and trying so hard but the tears keep flowing and fuck.

"Harry?" He hears from the bunk above him. Harry wants to groan because fuck if Louis didn’t think he was a freak already he sure as hell would now. Louis crawls down the bunk and freezes when he sees the younger boy. “Oh, Harry.” He whispers, climbing in next to him. Harry starts shaking even harder, gasping loudly. “Calm down, it’s okay. My mom’s a nurse. Control your breathing.” He says, looking between Harry’s eyes.

And Harry is trying but he can’t. He can’t get rid of this feeling of dread that’s looming over him and his breath hitches before he goes into another fit of gasping. Louis’ eyebrows draw together and he kisses Harry’s forehead. “It’s okay, Haz. It’s gonna be okay.” He says quietly, kissing his cheek. His lips move around his face as Harry slowly gains control of his breathing.

Louis’ lips linger on his forehead for a moment or two. Before Harry speaks up. “Thank you.” He whispers, his voice a bit raspy.

Louis pulls away slowly, looking into Harry’s eyes. His gaze flickers down to Harry’s lips before he responds. “You’re welcome.” He says quietly, fitting his lips into Harry’s.

Harry’s eyes flutter shut, responding after a moment of surprise. His hand floats up to cradle Louis’ face, his thumb brushing over the blue eyed boy’s gorgeous cheekbones. And like, Harry has never been kissed before but he imagines this kiss would blow all the others out of the park. He opens his mouth slightly and Louis bites his lip, tugging softly on the pink skin. Harry’s breathe catches in his throat again, but in a good way this time. Because he’s kind of been imagining this since Louis walked into the bathroom at boot camp and smiled with eight little crinkles by his eyes. Four on each side. And now Louis is pulling back and it feels all too soon.

"Oops." He says softly, a small smile reserved specifically for Harry on his face. And Harry is grinning even wider because that’s the first thing he ever said to Louis in a bathroom with only two stalls and three sinks the day he washed his hands nineteen times instead of twenty.

"Hi." Harry says back, and he kisses Louis again, repeating the word under his breath as their lips seem to slide together perfectly.

 

—-

"Harry, we’re gonna be late." Louis giggles as Harry kisses him again. They’re stood in front of the doorway of their shared flat, both dressed nicely in clothes laid out by their stylist beforehand.

"Don’t care, has to be perfect." Harry frowns, kissing him again for the fourteenth time. “‘S not like we can really be late to our own premiere anyway." He leans down to kiss him again. Fifteen.

Louis smiles into the kiss. Sixteen. “True, but you despise being late.”

Harry shakes his head. “Don’t care. Today’s special.” He kisses him again, because he can. Seventeen.

Louis laughs. “That it is.” He agrees, going up on his tiptoes to kiss his boyfriend slowly, softly. Eighteen. His lips linger for a moment before he pulls back. “I love you.” He says, his lips curling at the edges as he speaks.

And the world is quiet. After three years his head still stops ringing when he’s with Louis. He still wonders if his hands are clean or his door is locked and he still flicks the lights on and off and on and off when it’s time to turn in but Louis still makes it quiet. “I love you too.” He tells him softly, kissing him one last time. And yeah. That one’s perfect. Nineteen.

—-

Later they’ll have stand away from each other at the premiere like always and take a billion pictures like always and when Harry’s hands start to twitch at the lack of Louis between his fingertips like they always do, his phone will vibrate.

_From: Louis_

_Knew it._

**_To: Louis_ **

**_???_ **

_From: Louis_

_Said you were gonna be famous one day, didn’t i?? x_

**Author's Note:**

> this is on tumblr, url: douchelou  
> than you so muchhh for reading and i would love any kind of feedback ♥


End file.
